


The Siren’s Calling

by Itsbrittneyb_itch



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, I’ll add tags as I go along, finnick deserves a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 17:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14359866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsbrittneyb_itch/pseuds/Itsbrittneyb_itch
Summary: District 4. The main fishing supply for Panem. The 74th annual Hunger Games is a tragic scene. Calypso Green is not unfamiliar with tragedy. As luck would have it, neither is Finnick Odair. What will happen when the two meet? Nothing good, that's for sure.





	1. I’ll Tell You a Tale

**First off, I would like to credit AlexCat42. Without her, I wouldn’t have come up with the idea to write this. As she was working on a story, she needed some ideas and I graciously provided them. In turn, she filled my imagination with ideas that would not quiet down until I jotted them out on paper.**

 

**Those ideas quickly became what you are reading now. So a special thanks to my pal Alex. You should check out her FinnickxOC story “ _The Strength of the Tide_ ” the one that in a way inspired this one. So without further ado:**

 

**Chapter One: “ I’ll tell you a tale of the bottoms below and it’s hey to the starboard, heave ho!” - _The Little mermaid_**

 

It started with The Sea.

 

So it seemed only fitting to end with it.

 

When I was a girl, Mother and Father would walk across the shore with me and collect seashells. I would toddle along the beach collecting my treasures and throwing the occasional starfish back into the water, they would tell me stories.

 

They had an array of tales most of them made up on the spot. There were some about sleeping princesses and brave knights. My favorite one however, even though I had heard it many times before, was the one about the man and the woman.

 

It started off with the man being a sailor, while the woman made jewelry and fine fishing nets. One day while the woman was down the water’s edge, looking for shells to use in a necklace, she saw the fishermen preparing for one of their many voyages. Curiousity stuck her, and she couldn’t quite figure out why. It wasn’t anything new to see, being Panem’s fishing district they had to keep up with their reputation.

 

Yet the woman decided to take a closer look. Upon further inspection, she found nothing out of the ordinary. It was a fishing boat after all. As she turned around she ran straight into an oncoming sailor. The woman blushed all the shades of red, particularly the bright ones, and apologized profusely.

 

In the story the sailor however, did nothing but crack a smile. “Looking for something?” the sailor would say every time. And the woman would take a few moments to gather herself and reply:

 

“I’m sorry, no. I honestly don’t know why I walked over here. I’m sorry.” the woman prattled on. “But I have to say, that’s an odd name for a boat.” She pointed to the lettering across the side. _The S.S. Calypso_.

 

This is the part where the man’s smile would extend even further and say “How so?”

 

“It’s strange to name a boat after a siren. It seems like it would bring bad luck.”

 

The man, now fully grinning, always replied with the same line. “Aye, maybe you’re right, but what’s wrong with a little danger every now and again?” Then every time he would continue on with loading up the boat.

 

The woman would find herself visiting the shore more and more for crafting supplies. And the man, in turn, would be by the docks more than usual for a sailor such as himself. Their one conversion would then turn into two, then three, and then more than they could count.

 

And two years later, after tying the knot, it seemed only fitting for their first daughter to be named Calypso.

 

And that is where our story begins

 

Even though Mother deemed Calypso a safe enough name to give to a child, she still worried about dad and the original Calypso. I’m not saying she was worried over nothing, I mean, it being 5 years old when they originally met, and then another 12 years after that, it had seen more than its fair share of the sea.

 

It was the time of year for fishing, and Mother was always anxious around this time, thinking of the worst scenarios.

 

But dad insisted it was nothing to fret about. “Talya,” he would coo. “Mia amore, it is nothing to worry yourself over. That boat is as harmless as our Calypso.” He then pointed over to me, I smiled at him, with my little ten year old smile.

 

“If you insist. I just have a bad feeling about this trip.” She rubbed her enlarged stomach worriedly. “What if something bad happens and our children grow up without their father?”

 

Mother pleaded with him not to go. Maybe if I had too, he wouldn’t have went. Maybe he would still be here. But my dad was the bravest man I knew, and if he was brave for mom, then I had to be as well. It was his job to bring in the fish he’d say, and that’s what he would do.

 

Except he didn’t

 

No one from _The S.S. Calypso_ did. _The S.S. Calypso_ didn’t make it back. In fact, it didn’t even make it to the fishing spot. No one did.

 

“BOAT LOST AT SEA” the papers would read the following week. And a week after that, 10 year old Calypso and a heavily pregnant Talya Green would have to bury an empty casket in place of their beloved father and husband, respectively.

 

That was eight years ago.

 

**Alright how was that for a first chapter? I know it’s a bit slow going at first, but bear with me! You will all see your precious Finnick soon... :)**


	2. We Didn’t Start the Fire

**Ok, so now we’re going to get on with present day, so I hope you enjoy!**

 

**Chapter 2: “ We didn’t start the fire, it was always burning since the world’s been turning.” - _We Didn’t Start the Fire,_ Billy Joel**

 

I poke at my eggs and fish again.

 

_Ugh. Why did I have to be born in the fishing district?_

 

Not saying it didn’t have it’s perks. I rather enjoyed the sea and the salty air. The fish? Not so much. But fishing was District 4’s way of life, so fish was our most abundant food source. The actual fishing aspect wasn’t bad, but the thought of eating the fish made my stomach turn. I move the fish on my plate again and Mother breaks my thoughts.

 

“Calypso, darling, quit playing with your food.” Mother says to me. “You’re getting too old to be doing it.” She winked at me. “Besides, you might rub off on Ansel and Rowan.”

 

“I doubt it. All three of you love this crap.” Mother gives me the ‘don't say that in front of your siblings’ look. A look I am quite familiar with.

 

I look over to my brother and sister beside me and smile. Ansel was a spitting image of our father as a child, or at least I assumed that’s what dad would’ve looked like at 8 years old. He had chestnut hair and the most brilliantly blue eyes I had seen, you could definitely tell we were related. The only difference was that he had tan skin, while mine was almost as pale as paper.

 

Ansel’s wombmate, however, was like mom. Rowan had soft brown eyes and blonde hair, with skin as pale as mine and my mother’s. She also always had the same look on her face: innocence. Her and mom always looked like they were unaware of the horrors around them.

 

Rowan and Ansel probably were somewhat, but mom however, was not, and neither was I. Especially on a day like this one.

 

The 74th annual reaping ceremony would take place in a couple hours, and with the events that follow it we all would be wishing we were as ignorant as the twins. This would be my last year, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. After today we get a breath of relief for 2 years, then we will get thrust back into it when it is Ansel and Rowan’s turn.

 

But we would cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now we had to focus on today. I excuse myself and head towards my room. Being from District 4 we had some luxuries other Districts did not. I’m not saying we were rich, far from it in fact. But most days we had three meals. And it’s a kind of cruel way to think, but at least we were better off than 12. Or 13 for that matter.

 

Although I don’t know which is worse: being a slave to the capitol, or being dead.

 

I grab my dress off my bed and head towards the bathroom. I had to share a room with the twins, but I didn’t mind. At least we had separate beds.

 

Stepping into the shower I think about Panem before all of this. Dad used to tell me stories that his grandpa used to tell him. The ones about a country that loved each other, and worked together to benefit everyone. Father didn’t the reason behind why things took a turn for the worse, and he said grandpa really didn’t know either. Just that one day seemed normal, they went to bed that night, and then next thing he knew there were Districts dividing everyone.

 

He said that the best guess was that people got greedy, and as I grew older I realized he was talking about the Capitol.

 

I reach for a towel and dry myself off. After slipping the dress over my small frame I brush out my hair. I hear Ansel pitching a fit in the dining room, questioning why he had to wear such ridiculous clothes if it was only going to be for an hour. In spite of myself I grin

 

_You and me both kid, you and me both._

 

Walking back to the kitchen I give pouting Ansel a warm smile. “Well don’t you look handsome.” I lean down and kiss his forehead. Turning my attention to Rowan I reach to tickle her but she darts out of the way, laughing.

 

“About ready?” mother asks from behind. I jump slightly, I did not hear her approach.

 

“Ah yes.” I quickly regain my composure as before. “Are you?” I smooth out my dress as I speak.

 

Mother gives a weary smile, much like the one I seen her give dad. _Right before he..._

 

Mother lets out a deep sigh.

 

“As I’ll ever be.”

 

**Are YOU ready for the Reaping? let me know in the comments :)**

 

**I’ll try to update this story at least once a week when it starts going. It’ll start picking up in the next chapter or so, so be prepared!**


	3. It’s Been the Ruin of Many a Poor Boy

**Chapter 3: “There is a house in New Orleans. It’s called the rising sun. And its been the ruin of many a poor boy, and God, I know I’m one.” - _House of the Rising Sun,_ The Animals**

 

Every year Pristine Shine came to District 4 with a new style. Last year her entire getup was completely black and white, making her look like a checkerboard.

 

This year, it seems as though she was aspiring to be cotton candy. Her hair was bubblegum pink, styled in a do that can only be described as “floofy.” With long eyelash extensions and glossy pink lips, decked out in a powder blue dress, she stood upon the Fishing District’s stage and made her usual introduction.

 

“My my, what a turn out!” She laughed. “Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” Pristine addressed the crowd.

 

“As always, ladies first!” She projected to the crowd, with her usual cheerful and bubbly voice. She reached into the glass bowl, looked away, swirled her hand around in the names, and drew a single slip of paper.

 

“Calypso Green.” Pristine pronouced clearly. “Come on up!”

 

But I can’t. All I can do is stand there numbly. I shouldn’t have been called. This was my _last_ year. I _never_ put my name in more times more times for extra rations, I never needed to.

 

“Come on, dear!”

 

My legs move to the sound of Pristine’s voice on their own accord. Before I knew it, I was standing upon the stage with her. She asks if I have anything to say, but all I can do is shake my head no.

 

“And now for the boys!” I zone in enough to register the sight of my mother sobbing. Beside her I see Rowan and Ansel comforting each other. Both of them inching their way towards her without separating from one another.

 

“Jollif Veder!” The male tribute’s name is called. A boy, not much older than Ansel and Rowan, approaches the stage escorted by Peacekeepers.

 

“There we have it! District 4’s 74th annual Hunger Games tributes! Why not give them a round of applause!” The are a few claps, but other than that the crowd is silent.

 

I shake hands with Jollif, practically sealing his fate right there. He’s young, inexperienced, and frightened. I doubt he’ll last the first night.

 

Pristine leads us off the stage through the doors she came out of. “You’ll get a moment to say your goodbyes, then we’ll be straight off to the capitol.” She hands each both of us off to a set of peacekeepers. And they take me to a small room.

 

Not long after that, my family comes in. Ansel immediately clings to my leg. “Sissy I don’t want you to go!” He buries his face into my dress. Rowan practically jumps on me then. “Cally please don’t leave!” I catch her and hug her body to mine.

 

“Hey, hey, everything’s going to be alright.” I set her down gently and pull Ansel away from my knee. I look up to see mom standing in the corner, wiping tears from her eyes while trying to hold back the ones that threaten to spill out.

 

“If everything goes right, I’ll be back in a few weeks.” My voice cracks at the end. It’s a big promise to uphold, but I’ll tell them anything for them to settle. I smile and steady my voice. “And when I’m back, you can tell me all the bedtime stories I missed out on.”

 

“You promise?” Ansel looks up at me with puppy dog eyes full of tears. “Of course.” I know it will break their hearts when I die in the arena, but they will understand why I lied when they’re older. At least that’s what I tell myself.

 

A peacekeeper comes in. “Your time is up.” I quickly hug mom. “Take care of them.” I whisper, and all Mother can bring herself to do is nod.

 

Everything seems to fade out for while in the car taking us to the train station, but I’m brought back by Pristine’s hand on my arm.

 

“It’s time.” She releases my arm and me and Jollif follow behind her. For a brief moment I think about running, but that thought is immediately shot down. The station is swarming with peacekeepers, and if I managed to get past them, they know I would go back home.

 

We board the train as Pristine boasts about the train and its abilities. “This train goes at 200 miles per hour, and in a few days we’ll be in the Capitol! You two will love it there, I just know it.” She continues to drone on about the Capitol and its wonders, seeming to forget the fact we’re only heading there to meet our deaths.

 

“Ah yes, and how could I forget? You two need to meet your mentors!” She says excitedly. She snaps her fingers to get the attention of an avox.

 

“Prepare 4 cups of tea. And bring plenty of extra sugar cubes.”

 

**Y’all the meeting is finally about to go down! Prepare yourself! Don’t forget to bring sugar cubes to snack on xp**


	4. If you Like the Way you Look

**Chapter 4: “ If you like the way you look that much, then baby you can go and love yourself.” - _Love Yourself,_ Justin Bieber**

 

Finnick Odair was exactly how I thought he would be. But at the same time, he wasn’t.

 

Whether you've met him or not, if you live in District 4, you’ve heard the name Finnick Odair. Youngest ever to win the Games, a Capitol favorite. That’s what I’ve heard, at least. And, as rumor has it, quite the “rascal” if you want to put it that way.

 

“So,” I say. “What’s the game plan?” Finnick looked at me over his cup of tea. “Well,” he sat down his cup. “I guess the first step is to stay alive.” The corners of his mouth turned up.

 

“Wouldn’t you say so, Mags?” He looked over at the older lady beside him. She only gave him a smile in return.

 

He sees my unamused look and goes serious. “Alright, I was just messing around. It’s supposed to ease the tension.” I say nothing and he continues.

 

“We need a strategy, something to play off of. And both of you need to make friends if you want to stay alive. You’ll end up turning on each other anyways, but allies can mean the difference between life and death.” Finnick pops a sugar cube into his mouth. “Want one?”

 

“No thanks.” I decline, but Finnick is insistent. “Here, take it.” He grabs my hand and places the cube in my palm. I let it rest there, but I look up and see Finnick waiting expectantly. Knowing that he wouldn’t continue until I ate it, I put the block in my mouth.

 

Finnick smiles again, pleased with my actions. “You also need a hook, something that will reel the audience in, those can get you sponsors. Do either of you have any skills or personality traits that could set you apart from the others?”

 

He takes our silence as a no. “Hmmm,” Finnick hums. “We’ll just have to work on that, won’t we? But you two might wanna hit the hay, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

 

I just now realized how late it’s getting. Had it really been that long since The Reaping Ceremony? Jollif and I don’t argue with Finnick though, and head to our rooms.

 

“Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Finnick calls after us.

 

The room is nice, nicer than the one I have back home. I look down at my Reaping Day dress and suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I peel off my clothes and head towards the closet on the other side of the room. After looking through the closet with mild interest I select a simple white tank top and a pair of grey cotton pajama bottoms.

 

I’m actually surprised they provided us with clothes that didn’t have some sort of flair to them. I guess they want us to feel at home before they send us to our deaths.

 

I decide at that moment to take another shower. Taking off my dress didn’t help much, I still feel disgusted. The bathroom is slightly smaller than the bedroom, and a simple shower turns into a feat much difficult than it should have been.

 

I finally figure out how to work the shower, and I turn it on the hottest setting it had. Picking up the loofah provided I scrub hard at my skin, wanting to erase the events of today from myself.

 

Stepping out of the shower and onto the floor I realize the bathroom also had heated flooring.

 

_Damn rich people_

 

I head back through the door that connected the bathroom to the bedroom and I sink into the bed. _This one bed is bigger than the 3 we have in my room put together._ It seems as though the Capitol likes to flaunt their power a lot.

 

I lay my head down on the pillows and think about home. I hope everything is going alright there, I’ve never been gone from home before.

 

“Calypso.” I hear a knock on my door. It’s Finnick. I grab the remote off the nightstand to unlock the door. Finnick comes in.

 

“I was heading to bed and I saw the light on, and curiousity got the best of me. What are you still doing up?”

 

I glance over at the clock. **12:25 A.M.** it reads. “I didn’t know it was getting so late.” I admit. Finnick sits down on the edge of my bed.

 

“It’s probably just the excitement from today. It gets the best of us.” He explains with a smile. “Tomorrow is going to be even worse. The minute you get off this train they’re going to take you to your stylist, where you’re going to spend all day getting ready to look ‘presentable’ for the Tribute Parade later that night.”

 

“So,” he continues. “You might want to get some sleep.” He reaches over and turns out the lamp, casting the room into darkness. He gets up off the bed.

 

“Goodnight Cal.” He says and I look up at him. Even in the dark I can make up his smile

 

No one but dad called me Cal. And I wouldn’t let anyone else call me it after he died. But when Finnick says it, I don’t mind or feel the need to correct him. Instead, I smile and shot a name back at him. For two could play at this game.

 

“Goodnight Finny.” I can make out his smile extending in the night and I hear him chuckle. He turns around and leaves the room without another word.

 

**Alright so after this chapter I’m going to start posting once or twice a week. I probably won’t have an specific update date set, but my goal is to get one chapter out a week. Chapter 5 will probably be out Thursday or Friday this week, so be on the look out!**

 

**Things are finally picking up and it will continue on until the games start, then the real fun can begin.**

 

**If you liked it, leave a review and let me know.**


	5. Sit Still, Look Pretty

**Chapter 5: “I’m never gonna be, cause I don’t wanna be. Oh no I won’t sit still, look pretty.” - _Sit Still, Look Pretty,_ Daya**

 

I awake to the smell of bacon, which was a rare treat in our household. We hadn’t had bacon since Father died. I feel a hand on my side, gently trying to wake me up.

 

“Mom. I’ll be up in a minute.” I groan with my eyes closed, rolling over onto my back. I get pushed a bit harder, and I open my eyes.

 

“Ah!” I sit up quickly at the sight of the avox. My head starts spinning from the sudden movement. “What?” The avox puts her hand on my arm with a feather light touch. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and get up. She makes a hand motion, pointing towards the door leading outside the room.

 

I follow behind her and before long I’m in the dining car. I’m met with the sight of Finnick, Mags, Pristine, and Jollif sitting around a table, chowing down on breakfast goods.

 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Pristine says. “I sent someone to fetch you. I was starting to think you died in there.” Pristine giggled, and as it turns out, she changes her style based on _moods._ Today, since she was obviously feeling very chipper, she was wearing an outfit that based its theme around the color yellow. She was wearing a rather normal looking golden wig, but that’s where the normality stopped. Her outfit was so big it almost engulfed her.

 

I was starting to feel very underdressed in my pajamas.

 

“Now now Prissy,” Finnick chides. “Cal was just sleeping. And for good reason too, I kept her up all night.” He winked my way. Mags looked up and sent him a look akin to the ones my mother used to give me.

 

“It wasn’t _all_ night,” I correct. “And we were just talking.”

 

“Come, sit.” ‘Prissy’ pulls out a chair beside her and Jollif. I sit down and look over at Jollif, and I immediately wish I hadn’t. He’s eating fish and eggs, and it brings up memories of yesterday morning, and all the other mornings my family shared eating fish and eggs. Waves of melancholy and disgust flood me, and my face shows it.

 

“Something wrong, dear?” Pristine asks and I look away from Jollif’s plate. “Yea. It’s just I don’t really like fish.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either.

 

“From the Fishing District And doesn’t like fish. Strange.” Finnick comments.

 

“Why don’t you?” Jollif speaks up for the first time and it kind of surprises me.

 

“My father... he was a sailor, and when he wasn’t fishing he worked in the cannery. And he’d always come home reeking of fish guts. I never really minded until after he died and I went and worked for the cannery. The smell of fish was even stronger there, and I’ve never liked fish since.” Everyone was silent listening to my story.

 

“My family loves it though,” I chuckle and gesture to Jollif’s plate. “They could eat this all day everyday and never get tired.”

 

Pristine opens her mouth to say something, but something outside the window catches her eye. “Ahh!” She shrieks. “We’re here!”

 

Jollif rushes toward the window and I make my way towards it. I’d never actually seen the Capitol in person, only in books at school. Despite it’s many faults, it was gorgeous.

 

“Calypso, go get dressed.” Prissy tells me, and I don’t argue.

 

I change into a pair of jeans and a sweater, and when I come back out Pristine starts talking again. “You two will go out, wave a bit, and then meet your stylists.”

 

Mags says something to Finnick. It’s all garbled so I can’t understand, but apparently Finnick does.

 

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me.” He gives Mags his signature smile. “Be as charming as you can be, there are a lot of potential sponsors out there who can help you later on during the games.”

 

We step out of the train and onto the station platform and the crowd cheers loudly. It’s almost deafening how loud they are. I put on a broad smile and wave to all of them, blowing kisses and doing anything I think will get them to cheer louder.

 

It works.

 

Finnick, who’s standing behind me, whispers next to my ear. “You’re a natural.” Peacekeepers lead us away from the crowd and I drop the facade. We get into a limo that takes us to a large building.

 

“This is where you’ll be staying until the games,” Pristine explains. “So make yourself at home. Wait here in the lobby and I’ll fetch your stylists.”

 

Other tributes were doing the same. They weren’t all here but the ones closest to the Capitol were. One boy with blonde hair was giving me the eyes, so I tried my best to ignore him.

 

“I think you’ve got an admirer.” Finnick says. “That’s good, he could be a valuable ally. _But_ he’ll be a part of the career pack, which is a risky game to play.”

 

“What would you do?” I ask curiously.

 

“I wouldn’t make any promises to him, but it’s always good to have an ally.” Finnick reaches into his pocket. “Sugar cube?” He offers. I take it wordlessly and look back at tribute. He’s still staring at me, and I stare back.

 

Two could play at this game.

 

**Anddd there we are! Next chapter will have the some more FinCal bonding, meeting the stylists, and the tribute parade.**

 

**What do you think of Calypso? Is she worthy of Finnick Odair’s time? Let me know!**

 

**As always, leave a review if you liked it. As it really does show your appreciation to the story. And remember, any review is a good review!**

 

**Anddddd read “The Strength of the Tide” by Alexcat42. We have a huge surprise in store! ;)**


	6. I’m not that Innocent

**Chapter 6: “ I’m not that innocent.” - _Oops, I did it again,_ Britney Spears**

 

“Ah!” I whimper as they pull the wax paper off my leg. I let out another hiss as they do it to my other side.

 

After practically scrubbing a layer of my skin off, my prep team deemed me worthy enough to meet my stylist.

 

Prada Swan took one look at me and said: “I’m thinking something classy, you definitely could pull off the innocent look.” She circled my naked body. “We need to represent the fishing district without looking ridiculous, but something simple yet eye catching should do the trick.”

 

After Prada takes my measurements I put my clothes back on. She tells me to come back in 2 hours so they can start even _more_ preparations for the tribute parade.

 

I head outside the doors and into the lobby and Finnick is sitting on a bench, and when he sees me he flashes me a smile and sits up. “There you are! I was starting to get worried.”

 

“Save your worrying for the games. There’ll be plenty to worry about then.” I scoff and he frowns.

 

Finnick furrows his brows. “Someone’s a little snippy... did you not get enough sleep last night?” He genuinely seems concerned, and something stirs within my chest cavity. Right where my heart is.

 

I sigh. “I shouldn’t take my anger out on you. It’s not your fault. I’m just homesick I guess. I’ve never been away from home before, and the thought I never will is...” I trail off, not thinking of a way to describe it.

 

“It makes you feel like you’re drowning and you’re lungs are aching for oxygen.” Finnick finishes for me. He has a far off look in his eyes, and it feels like he’s in a different place entirely.

 

He comes back from it quickly. “Being a sacrifice for your district sure is a taxing job, but so is mentoring. So,” he says with a grin that could only be described as _Odair._ “You wanna go grab a milkshake?”

 

“What’s a milkshake?” I question. The word feels foreign on my tongue.

 

“Oh young Padawan,” Finnick sighs. “Your Jedi has so much to teach you in so little time.” He grabs my hand and leads me outside.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

A milkshake, I quickly find out, is one of the greatest things God has given us in this cruel society. According to Finnick, that is.

 

And, while sitting at a booth in a small icecream parlor, I cannot bring myself to argue with his description. “Oh my god, Finny.” I sigh. “This is _amazing_!”

 

“I told you!” He chuckled. “Just don’t drink it all at once, you’ll get a ––”

 

“Ouch!” I laugh, rubbing my head. “I think I took the words right out of your mouth.” We share a smile.

 

“So,” I say, not meaning for it to come off as cheesy “do you come here often... to the Capitol, I mean?” My attempt doesn’t work, and Finnick smiles looking down briefly.

 

“No, not usually. I do on occasion, when the time calls for it. And I come here for mentoring and the games. Which is kinda required if you survive your turn.” He shrugged. “But even though the Capitol seems wonderous at first, if you forget about the games, it can get pretty boring fast.”

 

“Surely if you didn’t want to come and mentor this year you didn’t have to, since you mentored last year and the girl won. There are other Victors, you know.”

 

He smiled. “I know, But according to my rather large fanbase, I have a lot of admirers in the Capitol. And it feels nice to be loved in a non-parental and friend way for a change, even if it’s broadly and not deeply.”

 

He looks into the distance. I can’t imagine what it feels like. To have no one. I mean he has Mags, but how much longer would that last? Even though I don’t always appreciate it the way I should, I’m glad I have my mom and my siblings.

 

“Besides,” Finnick shrugs. “Something told me I should mentor this year, and I’m glad I did.” There it is again. That weird feeling in my heart.

 

“ _Maybe it’s a murmur...”_ I think. At this point I hope. This is a dangerous game to play. After all, only one tribute will make it out of the arena, and the odds aren’t exactly in my favor.

 

“Finnick,” I ask. “What’s my skill? I mean I know my way around a knife and spear, my dad taught me that incase I ever _did_ end up in the games. But what’s my personality skill?”

 

He smiles. “You’re innocent.”

 

I roll my eyes. “Why does everyone keep saying that?! I’m not that innocent.”

 

“Oh yes you are, I can tell. You don’t have the crazy eyes. The ones you get when you lust after blood. You just wanna go home, and I don’t blame you. But you’re a natural with a crowd, I can _almost_ say it looks genuine - We’ll work on that later though.” He says as a side note.

 

Finnick continues. “You can play the innocent look to your advantage. You’re stunning, by the way, and that helps too. It can make people desire you. You remember lover boy from earlier? He will eat that shtick up. _Then_ you show them the truth, the wolf hiding in sheep’s clothing.” He leans back and smirks.

 

“Wow, no wonder we one last year.” I say, intrigued by his strategies.

 

“Actually, she didn’t listen to a damn thing I said.” Finnick laughs. “She was something else.”

 

I want to ask him what he means. _Was._ She’s not dead, I know that much. But I feel like I shouldn’t go there, so I don’t.

 

“Shoot, we’ve got to get you back to the plaza. Otherwise Pristine and Prada will have my head on a platter.”

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

“Bring your head down a little lower... ah, That’s it!”

 

Prada pushes my head down, tweaking my curls. Some of them sectioned off in a braid in the front that lead to a small bun in the back. The rest were placed behind me stopping at my mid back, while two curls framed my face on either side.

 

My hair gave the look of almost being dry after a swim, like they were on the cusp of almost drying, but you can still tell they were slightly wet.

 

My makeup was simple, All I had was mascara and a subtle pink lipstick on. Prada didn’t want it to distract from my natural beauty.

 

And I was showing _a lot_ of that.

 

Prada and her prep team had decked me out in a blue, green, and gold long skirt that started low and tight on my hips and made its way down to my ankles and floof-ed out into a resemblance of a mermaid’s tail. It’s fabric was reflective, so when it hit light it looked like sparkly scales.

 

My top was a purplish-blue sea shell bikini that showed off a lot more of my pale and lean than I would’ve liked. Along my bare skin different colored diamonds, gems, and pearls were place haphazardly in no particular pattern. My heels — though I could barely see them with the mermaid tail in the way — were opened-toed and gold, to match with the subtle hints of it in my skirt.

 

Jollif stood beside me, and was getting poked and prodded by his stylists as well. His hair was parted to one side, and he was wearing some pitch black pants, and a crisp white shirt tucked into his pants that was unbuttoned to about his stomach.

 

“About ready?” Jollif asks and I nod my head.

 

“Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes!” I hear Finnick’s voice behind me and I spin around to see him and Mags.

 

Mags says something to Finnick, which I have no idea what it was. But Finnick, as per usual did. “Mags said you both look stunning.”

 

I smile and thank her, telling her that she looks good in her black dress. She returns the smile and nods in appreciation.

 

“Mags is right. You do cut quite the fine figure, Cal.” Finnick says with a smile.

 

“You don’t look too bad yourself Finny.” I say before I can help it. And it’s not a lie, either. He looked pretty dashing in his black tuxedo.

 

“I tried.” He shrugged it off, which surprised me. I didn’t think he one be one to pass up a compliment. “Although, I do have to say, Prada couldn’t help herself dressing you up after a siren you were named after.” He laughs, but he’s not laughing at me.

 

“Actually I was named after a boat.”

 

Finnick frowns. “You were named after a boat!?”

 

“Yes.” I say, explaining the origin behind my name. “My dad was a sailor aboard the _S.S.Calypso,_ and he and my mom met and fell in love at the docks beside it. Which was, coincidentally, the boat he was lost at sea with. Technically it was named after a siren, but that’s besides the point.”

 

“Hmmm. I stand corrected.” He grins, but it faulters as he notices something. “That boy from 2 is staring again.” He frowns.

 

I look behind my shoulder and, as he said, The boy from 2 is indeed starring. Turning back to Finnick I shrug nonchalantly and say “Let him look.”

 

Finnick’s frown deeped as he processed what I said. He opened his mouth to say something, but Pristine walked in, cutting him off.

 

“Showtime ladies and gentlemen!! Get on the chariot.” She sighs in enjoyment. “This is always my favorite part of the games.” She spared no expense with her outfit, really pulling out all the stops for the occasion.

 

She wore a minty green wig, with a fake turtle resting atop of it. He dress was a slightly darker shade of green, with bubbles on it. Her make up was silver, which matched the heels she was wearing.

 

As we get on the chariot it takes off, the horses pulling us up to District 3’s chariot, and we wait for the que to go.

 

Finally the que comes and our horses start to move, pulling the chariot forward. We start picking up speed and I can see the crowds ahead of us. Rows upon rows of Capitol citizens lined up to watch 12 districts ride up in chariots.

 

I smile and wave at all of them, blowing kisses and winking at a few. About halfway through the parade I grab Jollif’s side, and he puts his arm around me. They go wild for that and throw money and roses and anything they think would appease us.

 

I hear a few wolf-whistles and I feel the urge to cover my chest up, but I fight it. “ _This is what people want. This is what you have to do to survive.”_ I remind myself.

 

And with that thought I wonder what else I’ll have to do to survive.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

**And we’ll stop there for right now, but I’ll have another chapter up soon, so do not worry! :)**

 

**This chapter came out at a whopping 2,039 words! Wow! I know it’s not a lot compared to some stories, but my chapters usually fall just under 1,000, or a little over. I could’ve split it into two chapters, but I decided to treat you guys! You’re welcome :p**

 

**If you figure out mine and Alexis’s (Alexcat42) secret, review and let us know!!**

 

**Next chapter’s synopsis:**

 

**“It’s training time in the Capitol, and Cal decides to make a new friend, attracting some unwanted attention from the career pack, and even more from the boy from 2.”**


	7. All my Friends

**Chapter 7: “ All my friends are heathens, take it slow.” - _Heathens,_ Twenty One Pilots**

 

I flop down on the bed, completely exhausted from tonight’s events. The parade didn’t get over until late, and it took an hour to finally revert back to my normal self, completely jewel and sparkle free.

 

Even now I can still hear people partying and hollering throughout the streets of Panem. Being your district’s sacrifice for the games is proven yet again to be both mentally and physically exhausting, not to mention emotionally exhausting.

 

I hear a knock on my door and I turn into my pillow and groan. “Who is it?”

 

“It’s me.” Finnick says through the door. “Can I come in?” He asks

 

“Knock yourself out.” I reply, and I hear the doorknob turn. Finnick walks in and surveys the state I’m in. “Tired, huh?” He chuckles. Sitting next to me.

 

“My feet hurt and I’ve got a headache.” I complain. “So yeah, I’m great.” I hope Finnick can sense how hard I’m rolling my eyes into my pillow.

 

“I got something that just might put a pep in your step.” He teases me, and I’m curious as to what he’s going to say, and I turn my head towards him.

 

“What?” I question, and Finnick smiles.

 

“So, during your little parade with the Capitol, guess who Brutus — the mentor from district 2 — spoke to.” I sit up and look at him, fully paying attention.

 

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you.”

 

“Correct. He told me that he would be absolutely tickled to _death,_ if you were to join forces with the careers. And, I gotta say, I think you should do it. What do ya say?” He looks at me, eager for my response.

 

I groan. “My feet hurt, that’s what I have to say. Heels are not the life for me, Finny.” Finnick sighs, slightly agitated, and grabs my feet and puts them into his lap, rubbing them. “I don’t know,” I say. “That boy from Two stares at me like I’m nothing more than a piece of meat.”

 

“That can be used to your advantage. Training starts tomorrow. The games start in 4 days. By that time you could have him wrapped around your finger. Easy.”

 

“What makes you so sure he won’t kill me in my sleep the first night in? He’s not to be trusted, Finnick.” I say, a little more grouchy than I mean to.

 

“It’s not about trust.” Finnick explains. “It’s about getting home. And to do that you’re going to need allies. Why not ride his success to the top, and then kill him while he’s weak?” He pushes his thumbs into the arch of my heel and I let out a hiss.

 

“I don’t know,” I repeat my earlier statement. “Besides, 4 days isnt a lot to work with for the whole ‘having him wrapped around my finger’ strategy.” I let out a yawn.

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure if that, sweetheart.” He says, letting out a chuckle. “I haven’t even known you a week and I’m already doing your bidding.” He cast his gaze down to my feet in his hands and I let out a laugh. Perhaps I don’t give myself enough credit.

 

Finnick releases my feet and tucks the covers in around me. He leans over and kisses my forehead. “Promise me you’ll sleep on it, ok?” I nod my head and he smiles at me, turning off my light and plunging the room into darkness.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

The training center is impressive. It could teach you everything you needed to know to survive in the Games. Bow and arrow, camouflage, spear and trident throwing, how to identify herbs, you name it.

  
Old habits die hard, I guess, and I find myself drawn to the fishing station. Perhaps because it reminds me of home, or perhaps because it was an enjoyable enough activity. I don’t know and don’t really care to know why it attracted me.

But it wasn’t the only thing in the room that attracted me. The boy from 12, although he seemed nice enough, kept to himself. It wasn’t a romantical attraction, per se, but something about him intrigued me.

 

I decided to figure out what exactly that was.

 

“Hey.” I say, walking over to him. “Need some pointers?” I could tell he was struggling with the knife throwing station. Everyone else could see it as well.

 

He looked up at me, surprised that I, or anyone, talked to him. He quickly put back on the neutral expression he was wearing before.

 

“Hey.” He let out, looking down at the knife in his hand. “I suppose so.”

 

I take the knife from him. “Its all in the wrist. You’ve got to get a good snap of the wrist, line the knife up with your target,” I focus the knife on the human outline ahead of me. “And voila!” I let go of the knife, and it hurts foward, sinking into the heart of the man shaped target.

 

He picks up a knife beside him and tries to mimic my directions. He takes awhile to line up the shot, but when he does he lets go of the knife. It barely got the shoulder, but at least he hit it.

 

“See!” I say. “That wasn’t so hard. Except in the arena they'll be moving targets, so you won’t exactly get all the time in the world to aim.” I explain to him with a smile.

 

Despite my terribly morbid joke he smiles back anyways. “You’re Calypso, right?” He asks, and I nod. “I’m Peeta.” He holds out his hand to shake, and I put my hand in his, shaking once.

 

Peeta returns to throwing knives, and I look at the spear throwing station with mild interest, deciding to give it a whirl.

 

I walk pass the pack of careers and look at the boy from 2 — Cato — ’s face. He has his jaw locked, and is glaring at both me and Peeta with his eyes burning.

 

I wonder if I just killed us both.

 

**There we have it folks! I’m expecting to get to the games in about 2-4 more chapters (4 at the maximum) so do not worry! I’m currently dressing the turkey, that way it’ll look delicious when we eat it!**

 

**At the rate I’m writing these chapters, I’ll be posting about 2 times a week, so hit the “favorite” and “follow” buttons on the story to get all the latest updates :)**

 

**If you liked the story, please please PLEASE leave a review, because it really does let me know if I’m doing a good job on the story or not.**

 

**So if you wanna tell me how great it is: Fantastic! You’ll probably make my entire week!**

 

**If you want to tell me how much you don’t like it: that sucks, I’m sorry to hear that you don’t like it. Can you tell me what I can improve on to make the story more appealing to you? Let me know! :p**

 

**Chapter 8 synopsis:**

 

**“Training in the Capitol is reaching its end. Cal is faced with a decision that will not only affect her in the Games, but in her life from that moment onward.”**


	8. Take a Walk on the Wild Side

 

**Here you go: chapter 8! I had something pretty similar to this already written, but something happened with and it turned chapter 8 into my halfway done chapter 9. *eyeroll* (yes I’m almost done with chapter 9 ;)) So the original chapter 8 went something like the one you’re reading now. Enjoy!**

 

 

**Chapter 8: “I said hey babe, take a walk on the wild side.” - _Walk on the Wild Side,_ Lou Reed**

 

 

“So Calypso, what are your thoughts for this year’s Games? How do you feel?”

 

 

“Well Caesar, it is such an honor to be representing District 4,” I sigh. “This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. I can’t take you seriously with that stupid wig on your head.” I pull the blue wig off Finnick’s head, and he laughs.

 

 

“Was I not convincing enough for you? Should I have laughed like a psychopath more?” He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I smile back in return.

 

 

“We do need to practice more though.” He says. “Caesar can hit you with any question.”

 

 

“Later.” I say, picking at my nails with disinterest.

 

 

“Fine then.” He smirks. “How was training?” I look up from my nails.

 

 

“I wanna keep practicing interviews.”

 

 

“Too late.” Finnick tisks. “You had your chance. How was training?”

 

 

“It was fine.” I shrug.

 

 

“How was lover boy? Did either he or the Pack approach you?” Finnick seems really concerned, and it was kind of scaring me.

 

 

“No, he didn’t do much aside from giving me the death stare.”

 

 

“He did what?! Why would he do that?”

 

 

I roll my eyes. “Gee, I don’t know Finnick. Not like he’s going to try and kill everyone — including me — in a couple days.”

 

 

Finnick scoffs. “You know what I mean. He wants you on his side, so what made him change his mind?”

 

 

“I was talking to Peeta, the boy from 12. It’s really nothing to get upset over. I didn’t make any commitments to Cato.”

 

 

“Ugh.” Finnick groans. “You potentially just ruined a spot in the Career Pack to ally with _12_?”

 

 

I wince. “Actually I don’t know if Peeta is on board yet...”

 

 

Finnick makes a sound akin to a sob, and burries his face into his hands. “That’s just great.” He looks up from his hands. “It’s alright though. You kept your options open, so there’s still a chance.”

 

 

“I don’t even know if I want to side with the Careers. Peeta is less likely to kill me in my sleep anyways.”

 

 

“Look Cal, you wanna get back to your family, right?” I nod. “Ok, good. The best option is to back the right horse. If Cato or the Careers approach you with a proposition, _take it._ ” Finnick says.

 

 

“No one gets anywhere siding with a boy from 12.”

 

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

 

Today is the last training day in the Capitol, and it’s surprisingly one of the most dull. I stick to what I’m good at; Knifes, spears, tridents, and knot tying.

 

 

Careers seem bored as well, because all they do is observe. Sometimes they go and train, but they always have someone watching.

 

 

Since it’s mostly just review — I’ve been using knives, spears, knots, and the occasional tridents my entire life — I can tune out of what my hands are doing and observe as well.

 

 

The identitying plant and herbs station catches my eye, and I put down my constructor knot to waltz on over.

 

 

Jollif is immersed in a match up game on the screen. His hands work flawlessly over the keypad, never missing a beat. The girl he’s taken a shining to, 5, is watching him with approval.

 

 

At least one of us has an ally.

 

 

5 notices me approaching and stiffens, but relaxes slightly when she sees the number 4 on my shirt. “How did you learn all this?” I question Jollif in amazement.

 

 

“My father owns a flower shop in the square at 4.” He says without looking away from the screen. Apparently the game finishes, because he looks away after a ding. “I worked there a lot cataloging plants and other herbs. I was supposed to take over one day, but...” Jollif trails off, and I know why.

 

 

He was supposed to take over one day. But then the games happened. And he has a 1/24 chance of seeing his dad again.

 

 

Or a 1/24 chance of ever seeing District 4 again.

 

 

“What about you...” I say to the girl from 5, hoping to get a name.

 

 

“Finch.” She states simply. “My grandfather owns a small apothecary in 5. Me and my sister helped out.” And she leaves it at that, not one for extra details.

 

 

“Oh,” I say. “I see.” I notice some small plants. “What are they?” I ask, pointing towards them.

 

 

“Katniss.” Both Finch and Jollif answer simultaneously, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. They look at each other and blush.

 

 

“I wonder if the girl from 12 was named after the plant.” I say, only half interested. They say nothing in return, and I feel like I should leave. I look over to the camouflage table and smile.

 

 

“I’ll leave you two to it.” I tell them, and leave it at that.

 

 

When I reach Peeta, I see that his hand is decorated with greys, browns, greens, and whites to look like tree bark. “Oh wow.” I marvel. “That’s amazing.”

 

 

Peeta looks up and smiles. “Thanks.” He says. “I use to ice the cakes in the bakery in 12.” He puts his hand up to a tree, and it blends right in.

 

 

“You really have a talent.” I say, and I mean it. “I could never do that.”

 

 

He smiles warmly at me again. “You never know. Want me to show you a few tips, to make up for the knife lesson?”

 

 

I nod, and he grabs my arm and rests it on the table. He tells me about the importance of shading and using multiple shades as he draws an elegant scenery on my arm. I try to pay attention, but my mind drifts elsewhere.

 

 

He really is a good kid, not much younger than me, if I had to guess. His bigger build makes it a bit hard to tell. I hope when it comes down to it, I’m not the one to kill him. Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. If I don’t make it out of that arena, I hope he does.

 

 

Even though he represents everything a victor is not. He’s kind, caring, and loyal. I don’t think he wants to, or will, hurt anyone.

 

 

Very few tributes become Victors by having a heart of gold though.

 

 

Unless he’s playing me and everyone else. Maybe underneath that boyish charm he’s a cood-blooded killer. But something tells me he’s exactly the same, inside and out.

 

 

“There we go.” He says. I look at my arm and my jaw drops. My arm looks exactly like vine-y foliage. Peeta beckons me over to some plant life, and I follow him.

 

 

I place my hand over some vines growing on a tree and I’m overcome with joy. I become one with the tree as my hand morphs right in, like it had been there all along.

 

 

“Thank you.” I say sincerely, and he laughs.

 

 

“Anytime.” He says smiling at me, and returns to add finishing touches to his own hand.

 

 

I head over to the spears station, feeling like mutilating a dummy. Approaching people seems to be a popular action today, because not long into my session with the dummy, Cato approaches.

 

 

“4.” He calls as he walks over. I look up, but don’t stop my progress. I glance out of the corner of my eye to see him smiling. “Do you do this often?” He says, gesturing to my work. _He does like me._

 

 

“Yea, most of the time it’s on fish though, not humans.” I lamely joke, but he seems to take it seriously. He sees my smile though and cracks one of his own.

 

 

“So 4,” He says, and I already know what he’s going to say. “It would be in your best interest if you joined the Careers. Girls like you need people to watch over them in the arena. Who knows what would happen if they didn’t.” Cato coos, and I can’t tell if he’s flirting with me, or threatening me.

 

 

So I shrug. “It’s Calypso.” I say, crossing my arms.

 

 

“Well Calypso,” Cato says. Our noses are nearly touching, and I can feel his warm breath on my face, but I don’t back down. He smiles. “What do you say?”

 

 

_If Cato or the careers approach you with a proposition,_ take it.

 

 

“I’ll join you.” I say, taking Finnick’s advice against my better judgement.

 

 

The corners of his mouth extend even further, he’s still towering over me. “Good choice.” He says, and turns on his heel to walk away. He’s not very far away when he turns back around.

 

 

“Oh, and one more thing.” I raise my brows. “No more conversations with 12. They’re beneath us.” My hands clench, but I unclench them.

 

 

_No one gets anywhere siding with a boy from 12._

 

 

“Of course.”

 

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

 

**And there we have it folks! What was literally my favorite chapter to write so far, turned into one of the most painstaking ones lol. You think it would be easy, considering I already wrote it once before, but it only made me want to get every. Single. Detail. From before.**

 

 

**It’s more or less the same thing I had before FanFiction goofed it up. I sent them two emails in regards to it, but with my luck I’ll get them AFTER I post this chapter. *eyeroll***

 

 

**So what do you guys think about Cal and Cato, Cal and Peeta, and Jollif and Foxface? I didn’t put them in to just make the story seem cool, they’ll all serve there purposes in the games ;)**

 

 

**As always, if you liked it, review! Criticism is welcomed as well, so don’t be shy! :)**

 

 

**I also got a tumblr page ( Finnick-the-sugar-cube) and I’ll be posting Finnick and Hunger Games related stuff on there, as well as sneak peeks and Chapter links for “The Siren’s Calling”**

 

 

**Also, I’m thinking about doing some polls, like maybe a “which ship do you ship the most?” or something like that. Would you guys want to do them?**

 

 

**Chapter 9 synopsis:**

 

 

**“Evaluations. Interviews. As the Games begin to darken Cal’s doorstep, she’s faced with decisions in the Capitol. She questions her relationship with Finnick; does it run deeper than mentor and tribute? And Cal should really figure out when it’s alright to eavesdrop on people.”**


	9. Nobody’s home

**This broke our previous record for chapter 6 being the longest chapter. This entire thing is 3,620 words long! *mind explodes***

**Another record broke (For FF.net): last update date (4/20/18) we got 106 views in _one_ day! Wow! I’m so proud. Keep it up guys!!! :)**

 

**Sorry this chapter is so long, but I didn’t want to break it into 2 chapters :p. So here you go!**

 

**Chapter 9: “But when I dial the telephone, nobody’s home.” _All by Myself,_ Eric Carmen**

 

Dinner consists of roasted duck with cranberries, asparagus, and a creamy lobster bisque. I push my food from one side to the other.

 

“Calypso, you’ve barely touched your food. Is something wrong?” Pristine asks, looking over her wine glass.

 

I look up at her and smile. “I’m great.” I take a bite of food to prove it. The asparagus feels like rubber in my mouth but I chew and swallow.

 

“How was training? It was the last day today, so tomorrow you’ll have evaluations in the midafternoon.” Finnick asks, stuffing his face with his bisque.

 

“I know how it went.” Jollif speaks up beside me. I look over to see him smirking. “She talked to 12, and then she talked to 2.”

 

This makes Finnick immediately direct his eyes towards me. “You did? What’d Cato say? What did _you_ say?”

 

“He asked —if you wanna put it that way —if I would join the career pack, exactly like you said he would. And I decided to take your advice and say yes, even though it’ll probably come back to bite me in ass sooner than later.” I take in a spoonful of the creamy soup.

 

“That’s marvelous!” Finnick claps his hands together. “You’ll want to be up to par with them at evaluation, maybe a little lower. But don’t score too high. Even though the careers are deadly, they don’t take kindly to threats.”

 

I nod, really not wanting to be the center of attention a moment longer. “Jollif made an ally today as well. She’s very crafty. And clever.”

 

“Yea she is. Her name is Finch and she’s from 5. She’s amazing.” Jollif says with high admiration for his ally. If I didn’t know any better he probably had a crush, but something about his tone makes me feel like he’s trying to seek Finnick’s approval.

 

But Finnick just continues to eat his bird. He looks to Mags at his left and smiles.

 

“It’s going to be a good year.” He says to her.

 

Indeed it was.

 

The next morning I dress myself in the clothes Prada picked out for me. Some black yoga pants, a white tank top, and a teal windbreaker jacket. I wear some flat tennis shoes that are the same color as the jacket she dressed me in.

 

My hair was put into a braided bun, and I wore the minimal amount of makeup, consisting of mascara, a touch of light pink lipstick, and barely any eyeliner.

 

“Evaluations are in an hour!” Pristine chimes. I grab an apple from the fruit bowl, and Finnick comes downstairs from his room. I can tell he just woke up because he’s in his pajamas and his hair’s messier than usual.

 

“Cal!” He greets me when he spots me. “Excited for the big day?”

 

I rub the apple on my jacket and take a bite. “I suppose.” I shrug my shoulders.

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“Probably throw some knives and spears, tie some knots, maybe do some camouflage.” I say, then I remember what he said at dinner and I frown. “Although I’m not sure how I’m supposed to know what the other careers will score.”

 

“They usually get around 10, so shoot for an 8 or 9. Any higher than them and you’ll be seen as a threat, so stay on the downlow.” I nod, mulling over the information.

 

“Be good,” He says. “But not _that_ good.”

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

One by one I watch tributes go in; Boy first, then girl. I worry my hands, rubbing them against each other.

 

I don’t have to wait long, being a girl from 4 I only have 7 people ahead of me. Anxiously chewing on my nails I think about my strategy.

 

Sooner than later I hear my name being called, and I’m lead into the evaluation room. They shut the doors behind me and I walk forward into the room.

 

Sitting in a balcony like cove carved into the top of the wall I see The Gamemakers. Seneca Crane sat there, quiet as a church mouse, observing me. His icy gaze made me feel as though I had something to prove to him. That Seneca, without even knowing me, had high hopes for me.

 

I nearly shudder under his gaze.

 

“Calypso Green,” I prounciate clearly. “District 4.” Seneca tilts his head to the side, but remains silent.

 

I go to the knives and pick them up. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and throw the dagger. It sticks right into the heart on the human outline. I throw 3 more, each landing on the brain, liver, and another on the heart.

 

I head over to spears. I throw 4, missing the target once, but on purpose.

 

_Be good, but not_ that _good._

 

And then, keeping Peeta’s lesson in mind, I paint my arm to blend into the mossy stone wall. It wasn’t as great as Peeta’s, but it was camouflaged enough to where I wouldn’t be completely recognizable.

 

I look over to Seneca Crane, and he’s watching me with a smile. I watch him lean over and whisper something to his colleague beside him. What confused me was that Seneca’s associate looked nothing like the norm of the Capitol. He looked _plain,_ with no features standing out.

 

I hear a throat clear and I realize I have been staring. Seneca makes a hand motion pointing towards the door. I blush and let myself out.

 

I let out a sigh of relief, shaking my head. All I can do now is hope and pray my score’s lower than the rest of the pack’s, but high enough to keep them from deeming me useless and killing me off.

 

Easy peasy.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

I plop down next to the couch beside Finnick and sigh. Me, Finnick, Mags, Pristine, Jollif, and both our prep teams have gathered for the highly anticipated news.

 

We all talk idly for a while until we hear Panem’s anthem play from the holographic TV. Every set of eyes in the room focuses on it, and the chatter dies down.

 

Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith’s faces appear on the screen. They have brief banter and explain what the scores mean. That evaluations are set on a scale from 1-12, 12 being the best and 1 being the worst.

 

They, as usual, begin with district 1. Marvel gets a score of 9, his district partner, Glimmer, gets an 8. Loverboy Cato and his partner both get 10s.

 

Our numbers draw closer and I look over to Finnick. His intense gaze is set on the TV, he’s so focused it begins to frighten me a little.

 

“Jollif Vader, District 4, score of 6.” Finnick claps him on the back and we all give our congrats. He wants to be below the radar, and he will be.

 

“Calypso Green, District 4,” Caesar reads, and I hold my breath. “score of 9.” I let out my breath and smile. I got a score that wouldn’t make the Pack see me as a weakling, but they also wouldn’t see me as an immediate problem.

 

As everyone cheers for me and my score Finnick places his hand on my back, and rubs it gently, unlike what he did to Jollif. “Congratulations.” He murmurs, and I smile back at him.

 

Finch got a score of 5, and the male tribute from 11 gets a score of 10, his counterpart getting a 7.

 

Peeta gets an 8, and I smile, happy for him. The female tribute from 12, however, gets an _11_. Finnick whistles. “She’s gonna be the first the Careers hunt down, I guarantee it.”

 

I don’t disagree with him, because it’s true. I know enough about Cato to know that he won’t stop until he has her.

 

Katniss is the biggest threat in the arena, and all I can say is it would suck to be her.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

Today is the last day I have in The Capitol. Tonight we have interviews with Caesar, but the next day we’ll be in the area before lunch.

 

Me and Jollif made the decision to be trained alone. After all we are going completely different routes strategy-wise.

 

While I put my neck out on the chopping block siding with the Careers, he decides to be more stealthy about it. Going the with the “I’ll outlast you because I’m more clever” plan.

 

It’s not a bad decision, and when I wish him the best of luck I truly do mean it. He’s just a kid, and I hope he makes it far enough in The Games to stand a chance.

 

Since I’m already pretty well versed in combat, I go with Mags for private training. Me and Finnick would probably end up goofing off anyways, so it’s good for Jollif to get as much combat training as he can get.

 

Mags is sweet, and even though she can’t speak I can pretty much make out what she says. She teaches me how to make fish hooks out of basically nothing, and she shows me how to weave baskets tight enough to where even water wouldn’t leak out.

 

I realize she’s like the grandma I never had. She’s a good listener and a great mentor. No wonder she’s like a mother to Finnick. She really cares about him. I can tell by the way she looks while her eyes light up as I mention him in a story. She loves him.

 

Mags brought a notepad with her, just incase she needed to explain something into more detail, or if I didn’t understand what she was saying. But we didn’t use it until she asked about my life.

 

_Did you enjoy growing up in 4?_

 

“Yea.” I say. “It’s a good district and we’re luckier than most, even though sometimes we forget it. I love the sea and the beach and the hot sun shining down on us.” I smile. “I guess the only downside would be we eat fish constantly.” Mags smiles at that, and I laugh.

 

The corner of her eyes crinkle as her smile extends further, and I realize that’s what I like most about her. Her smile.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

Topaz, one of my stylists, circles around me. He had blue hair and his eyes were gold and as sparkly and shiny as the gem he was named after. He pushed baby hairs that weren’t in my updo back behind my ears, giving me what he deemed was the innocent look.

 

Soprano had bright red hair and crimson red lips. She zipped me up in the back, and smoothed the pink scaly looking material over my hips.

 

Gemini was a bleach blonde with black lipstick and mascara and eyeliner. He has crouched down on the floor, shining my gold shoes so they shone like the rest of my dress.

 

Prada stood in front of them all, observing their every move. Making sure everything was perfect on ‘her little mermaid.’

 

“Enough.” she said, and they all stopped. Including Topaz, who had graduated from messing with my hair to drawing small gold and pink scales on my cheek.

 

“She’s finished.” All three of them stepped away from me at the same time. I probably would’ve noticed how creepy it was if I wasn’t in awe at the vision in the mirror.

 

I was in a tight fitting salmon pink dress that covered my shoulders but left my arms exposed. It had a back line that plunged until mid back, then it stopped. My feet were decked in gold heels, that were shiny.

 

On my right cheek there was a small set of scales drawn in shimmery gold and pink. My hair was done into a braid bun, and on my head was a white flower crown, made of small lilies.

 

“Spin for me.” Prada commands. And I do as she wishes. I gasp when I see it. My salmon colored dress shimmers in the light, making the illusion of white and gold and pink fish scales.

 

Prada smiles and claps her hands together once. “She’s ready.”

 

Standing in line for the interviews gives me butterflies in my stomach. I resist the urge to chew on my freshly painted gold and white nails.

 

_“It’s only for three minutes.”_ I console myself. _“It’ll be over before you know it.”_

 

Glimmer goes, and she’s bubbly. Marvel goes and he’s arrogant. Clove is dangerous, and Cato is confident. When Cato’s interview is over, he walks backstage and winks at me. I resist the urge to roll my eyes too hard.

 

The line gets shorter and shorter.

 

Finally, The boy from 3’s three minutes are up, and he walks backstage where the rest of the tributes are waiting to be interviewed.

 

I let out a deep sigh, and prepare myself. I put on a smile and try to act the part.

 

“And our next tribute made quite the _splash_ at the Tribute parade.” I hear Caesar Flickerman’s overzealous voice ring out. “Give it up for District 4’s little mermaid, Calypso Green!” I hear Caesar’s borderline-psychotic laugh and take it as my que to start walking out.

 

I smile as I walk out onto the stage, waving to the crowd. When I reach Caesar he kisses my hand. We both take a seat, and Caesar gets right into the good stuff.

 

“Calypso!” He says, and I smile at him. “Can I call you Cal?”

 

“Of course.” I say immediately. It’s really only a name for people I love to use, but I’ll indulge in Caesar’s game.

 

“Well I have to say you look absolutely gorgeous!” Doesn’t she? Doesn’t she?” He asks the crowd, and they cheer. Caesar laughs. “By The looks of you and Finnick Odair, I’m starting to think there’s something in the water over in 4!”

 

I laugh with him. “Caesar, you’re making me blush.” I fake being embarrassed, and the crowd buys it. Awing at my blushed cheeks, one of the tactics me and Finnick worked on.

 

“So Cal, got anyone special back at home in 4?”

 

I shrug my shoulders. “Just my sister, brother, and mother.” I say sheepishly.

 

“No boyfriend? Lover? Fiancé?” Caesar questions. I smile and shake my head.

 

“Really? I can’t believe it! A beautiful girl like yourself, isn’t she lovely?” He laughs as the crowd cheers. His laugh is almost maniacal, considering nothing is funny. But I like his company nonetheless, even if it is in front of the entire country.

 

“How are you liking the Capitol? What’s been your favorite thing here?”

 

I blush again, for good measure, and answer his questions. “The Capitol is so pretty.” I say, not a complete lie. “And the best part of the trip was the milkshake, it’ll be hard to beat.” I laugh, and Caesar does too.

 

The buzzer goes off, and I hear some protests from the crowd. “Now now, hopefully we’ll see her again, but for now we’ll wish her the best of luck!” Caesar laughs. We both stand up, and he kisses my hand again. I wave on the way out, smiling.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen; Calypso Green!”

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

I brush the tangles out of my hair with my fingers. The action reminds me of when my mother use to do it to me. I smile at the thought.

 

I had just gotten out of the shower not too long ago, grateful to be free of the pretty dress. I put on my pajamas; a white long sleeve shirt and grey cotton bottoms with little sheep on them.

 

I plop down on the bed, thinking. Tomorrow is the start of the games, and this could be the last time I sleep in a bed. My thoughts are interrupted by soft but firm knocks on my door.

 

“Cal?” I hear Finnick’s voice on the other side. “Can I come in?”

 

“Yeah.” He opens up the door, walking in with a smile on his face.

 

“You were _fantastic_!” Finnick sits down beside me. “I really thought you were a dead ringer for the best interview, but of course 12 had to ruin it.” He rolls his eyes.

 

“First it was the tribute parade, now this.” Finnick clicks his tongue. “They’ll be harder competition than I originally thought, but no matter. You’ve got plenty of sponsors as well.”

 

“Good thing I listened to you and allied with the Careers. I don’t think Peeta would choose Katniss over me.” I say.

 

“Hmm.” He hums. “I’m not so sure. I mean you only had a three minute interview tonight, and you’ve already got Caesar and half the country around your finger.” He chuckles.

 

“Peeta might come around.” He shrugs. “Ya never know. You’re one of the best tributes I’ve had the honor of mentoring.” I smile at his kind words, hoping they hold some truth behind them.

 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” He pulls things out of his pocket, dropping some on the night stand beside me. “This, is for you.” He puts a piece of rope in my hands.

 

“Your token. I didn’t think you had one, so I’ll give you mine from my time in the arena. It might even be lucky.” He shrugs. “It worked for me.”

 

“Thank you.” I say, touched by his gift. “You’re right, I didn’t think to bring anything from home...” I trail off, tearing up in my eyes. I lean forward and hug him, shoving my face into his neck. He returns it, wrapping his arms around me.

 

“Thank you, Finny.” I say again into his neck. I let go of him, and he does the same.

 

He smiles. “You better hit the hay though. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.” He kisses my forehead and stands up. He walks out of my room, closing the door behind him.

 

I smile at the gift still in my hands. I get under the covers and turn off the light. Running the rope between my hands, I wonder why he kept it after 10 years. Maybe it had some other sentimental value to it, besides it being his one piece of home in The Games. I might ask him about it tomorrow.

 

I roll over to set the rope down on the nightstand, but find it occupied by the other stuff that came out of Finnick’s pockets. I smile at the sugar cubes, business cards, and occasional ball of lint.

 

I scoop it all up into my hands, throwing some of the lint balls I can pick out onto the floor.

 

I open up my door and head down the hallway and through the house, intent on going and giving it to Finnick, wherever he is.

 

Giving the lack of lighting in the temporary home, I put together that he’s in his room. That kind of makes me pause, considering I’ve never been into his room, or any guy’s room for that matter. Finnick always came to mine.

 

I won’t let that stop me, and I reach his door. I go to knock on it, but find it already cracked open. I hear he voice inside, but he isn’t alone, given that he’s talking. I can make out that he’s on his phone, talking to someone.

 

“I know, I miss you too.” I hear him say, and I can tell he’s smiling. I remain hidden by the door, listening in. I know I shouldn’t, but curiousity is getting the best of me.

 

_Who is he talking to?_

 

So I listen in a bit more. “Yes, Mags is fine. She’s just tired most of the time, you know how she is.” He says into the receiver. Apparently whoever Finnick is talking to seen the interview, because I hear him say:

 

“Yes yes she was good.” He praises. “I really have high hopes for her. How are the flowers, have you been watering them?” Finnick asks.

 

I should leave, it’s not right to eavesdrop on his private life.Then the words that come out of his mouth make my heart sink.

 

“I’ll be home in a couple weeks, don’t worry. Alright, I love you too, and I’ll see you then.”

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

**review! :)**

 

**Chapter 10 synopsis:**

 

**“Despite hearing some things she shouldn’t have, Cal acts no different around Finnick, but Finnick seems to be the one acting weird. Could he have seen her last night? Cal wishes she knew the answer, but she has bigger things on her mind today.** **It’s the start of The Games.”**


	10. There’s a Time for Games and there’s a Time to Kill

**Chapter 10: “ There’s a time for games and there’s a time to kill, baby make up your mind ‘cause the time is here.” - _Purple Lamborghini,_ Skrillex and Rick Ross**

 

I wake at the crack of dawn with puffy eyes and clutching Finnick’s token of rope. I feel like crap, so I decide to head for the shower. I don’t even bother picking out clothes. I just strip as I head to the bath, throwing my discarded clothes left and right.

 

I turn a few knobs on the shower, and step inside. I run my fingers through my wet hair, soothing myself. Last night after hearing Finnick’s phone call, as lame as it sounds, I cried myself to sleep. It wasn’t entirely about Finnick though.

 

I cried because I didn’t want to go into The Games, I wanted to live. I cried because The Capitol is filled with sadists, who love to watch innocent children die. I cried because I had a 1/24 chance to see my family again. I might never see my brother and sister’s smiling faces again, I might never hear my mother sing again. And I cried the hardest because of my father, who I could really use right now, and I don’t even have the chance to see him again.

 

Today, 9 years ago, he died.

 

I won’t even be able to visit the memorial with my family.

 

I wipe the tears away from eyes. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I turn off the shower and step out. I finally try the full body blow dryer, and it sends warm air shooting out. I’m dry within seconds, and after untangling my hair I go to pick out clothes.

 

The closet is already programmed to my tastes, and shows me a few suggestions. I settle on a pair of knee high boots, ripped jeans, and a black shirt with a black and white flannel.

 

I head downstairs to see everybody up and at the table, including Mags. She smiles and waves me over to the spot between her and Finnick.

 

“Big day today!” Pristine chimes from the head of the table. She’s wearing a sparkly dress, very similar to the one I wore last night. She catches me staring and smiles.

 

“Oh Calypso you were the Belle of the ball last night! Everyone who’s anyone is wearing it. You’re dress was absolutely to die for, Prada you’ve outdone yourself.” She gives praises to my stylist on the other side of the table.

 

“Thank you, Prissy. It would have been even more noticeable if it wasn’t for _Cinna._ He just had to make the girl from 12’s dress burst into flames.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes with obvious distaste.

 

I haven’t known Prada that long, but she doesn’t seem like the type to let someone get under her skin. She’s very professional in that sense. I wonder what Cinna did to make her angry, because I can tell it’s not just about the dress.

 

“Oh hush Prada, you’re still bitter over you two breaking up.” Jollif’s stylist, Venus, laughs rolling his eyes.

 

“I am _not_! Cinna is one of the most insufferable, incorrigible —”

 

“Shh!” Finnick shushes her. It’s the first time he’s said a word. He reaches into his pocket and grabs his phone. He answers the call and puts it to his ear. Then, without another word spoken, he leaves the dining room with the phone pressed to his ear.

 

We all look around the table exchanging curious looks. “It’s probably another sponsor.” Topaz speaks up, and Gemini nods.

 

“They’ve been ringing his phone up _all_ morning.” Soprano puts in, emphasizing the ‘all.’

 

“And we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Pristine says. “I can tell you’re going to be one of the favorites this year, and Finnick can be pretty convincing when it comes to getting sponsors.” She squeals. “I cannot wait for this evening!”

 

I can.

 

Finnick returns to the room. He sits down and smiles, but he kind of seems off.

 

“Who was that?” I ask. His smile falls and he just looks at me with a sort of far off look, almost like he didn’t hear me.

 

“Just another sponsor.” He smiles again. “They want to support 4. They think we have a chance of winning again, and they want in on the action.”

 

I know he’s lying. I can tell. Maybe it was the same person he was talking to last night, and he just doesn’t want to admit it. It’s not my place to ask though, and I return to my plate.

 

“How could they not?” Prissy grins. “They both did outstanding in evals, this year is gonna be good.”

 

I push my plate aside. Sick to my stomach at what is to come.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

My face hits the mat and I growl. I turn over and look at my opponent. Finnick stands towering over me with a victorious grin. “Come on, Cal.” He taunts. “You can do better.”

 

I let out a huff. “Barely any of my competition is built like you. I could easily take 90% of them.”

 

“What about if Thresh comes after you?” He questions.

 

I roll my eyes. “I’d run like Hell in the opposite direction.”

 

“Hmmm.” He says, still moving back and forth on his feet while I lay on the ground. “What if loverboy turns on you?”

 

“Then I’ll do this.” I quickly move my feet, kicking his out from under him. He falls to the ground beside me and laughs. “That’ll do.” He says. I stand up and offer him my hand.

 

He takes it and stands up. “I don’t think he’ll be much of a talker though.” I tease, and he chuckles.

 

“He seems like the type of guy to toy with his prey before killing it.” We start walking over to the benches.

 

“From what I can tell he’s quick tempered. You should have seen what happened in training when ‘someone took his knife.’” I laugh. “Little did he know it was the small girl from 11.”

 

“Mags showed you how to make baskets, right?” He asks.

 

I take a drink of water. “Yea. It’s too bad that she’s not here too, but Jollif needs to be trained by her as well.” We sit down at one of the benches, and our conversation carries on.

 

I see Finnick’s facial expression of mock hurt and I laugh. “Not that you aren’t great. She just so... _sweet_.” I laugh. “I can see why you like her so much.”

 

A small smile graces his lips. “Yeah... after my family died she was the only one there for me, and she was all I had for a long time.”

 

I don’t know what to say. So I don’t say anything. All I do is softly smile at him and place a hand on his back. And somehow, that’s enough.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

The games start in less than 2 hours.

 

After our final training session, Finnick and I head back to our living quarters. When we enter, we see that Mags and Jollif have already returned.

 

Pristine, it seems, has changed her tune since this morning. As soon as she sees me she runs forward and hugs me, trying not to cry on my shoulder.

 

My prep team is no better. Gemini and Topaz have silent tears running down their faces, and Soprano is starting to tear up around the eyes. Just this morning they were excited for the games, now they can barely hold it together.

 

Was it like this every year?

 

“Watch your back in there. Stay strong.” Pristine whispers in my ear, letting out a few sniffles. She pulls back and chokes out a sob, which triggers more of Topaz and Gemini’s tears. By now Soprano has joined all three of them.

 

Prada, the only dry-eyed Capitol citizen in the room, is put together and calm. “We have to leave.” She says. “Games start in about an hour and thirty, so we’ve got to get a move on.” I reach into my pocket and fiddle with the rope. Rubbing my fingers over the coarse fibers calms me somewhat, and I’ll take all the comfort I can get right now.

 

Me, Jollif, both our stylists, Finnick, and Mags head out. But not without Pristine hugging both me and Jollif one more time, followed by Topaz, Gemini, and Sorprano hugging me. When we reach the elevator we all pile in and I press the 1; ground floor.

 

We all get out when we reach the bottom floor, and we make our way down to the lobby.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

I pace anxiously in the room. They already pricked me with a needle and inserted a tracker under my skin. Now I wait for Prada to show back up, she’d said she was only going to be a minute.

 

I turn as the door opens. The handle twists and Prada emerges. I let out a huge breath and she holds open her arms. I practically leap into her and she holds me.

 

“Hey hey it’ll be alright.” She whispers. “Don’t cry.” She pulls me back and cups my cheek, stroking her thumb over it. “Judging by the clothing, it’s a forest.” She gestures to my boots and jacket.

 

She pulls my token out of her pocket and I grasp it. She pushes the baby hairs that fell out of my bun out of my face and back behind my ears. “Remember: don’t let them see you cry.” She cups my face one more time and looks behind me at the tube, and I get the message.

 

I step into the tube and Prada closes the doors. She sends me one last glance and I smile. The corners of her mouth twitch up and I swear I see her eyes tear up.

 

The floor slowly starts lifting me up, and Prada Swan disappears from my view. Not too long after, I feel the wind tousling my baby hairs.

 

I’m in the 74th Hunger Games’ arena.

 

_“Cal.” I’m broken out of my reverie by his voice. I look up, even though I knew who the voice belonged to._

 

_“Finny.” I say with a small sad smile on my face. Me and Jollif are getting ready to board the hovercraft, but we get to say goodbye to our mentors._

 

_Me and Finnick are alone now, the others — Mags, Venus, and Prada — are saying their goodbyes to Jollif in another room. And I don’t have to ask, because I already know he requested his goodbye to be by himself._

 

_“Come here.” He says, and I gladly take the invitation. He embraces me, his lips on my forehead, and I wrap my arms around him. “Finnick,” I whisper. “I’m scared.”_

 

_“I know. Stay with the Career Pack though. You’re smarter than they are. You can work against them right underneath their noses.” We separate from each other, but we’re still close._

 

_“I know.” I smile. “And it’s what I have to do to get back to my family. I have to win for them.”_

 

_Finnick’s glazed over look from this morning is back. There’s a hint of melancholy in his voice when he udders: “Of course.” I can’t reflect on it long, because he leans in and kisses me._

 

_My first kiss._

 

_It wasn’t anything too flamboyant. It was just his lips on mine, and it went as quick as it came. “Be safe, and come back.” He says afterwards. I nod, and put my lips back on his._

 

_“I will.”_

 

I hope I can keep all the promises I’ve made.

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

**Review ;))**

 

**I don’t know if you guys have noticed or not, but on my profile bio I have a section entitled “story updates” or something like that. I post under there when the story is going to be updated next. (Given that I’m usually 1-2 chapters ahead of the one you read). So, if you ever wonder when the next update’s going to be out, just check my bio! :)**

 

**Assss alwayssss read “The Strength of the Tide” by AlexCat42. It’s another great OC story that involves a girl from District 4 going into the Hunger Games (it’s the 73rd one though). The author is great *totally not being baised...* and I think you’ll find “The Strength of the Tide” great as well!!**

 

**Chapter 11 synopsis:**

 

**“The Games usually kick off with a bloody death toll. Most of the sane tributes stay away from The Cornucopia Bloodbath. Cal, unfortunately, is not in her right mind. Luckily for her, she has a ‘friendship’ with The Careers, right?”**


	11. Come Out to Play

**Chapter 11: “And I’ve been calling ‘Oh hey hey Johnny! Can’t you come out to play?’” - _Empty Garden,_ Elton John**

 

_“One wrong move,”_ I think. _“and I’ll be blown into bits so small they won’t even come to collect them.”_

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I hear Claudius Templesmith’s voice ring out. “Let the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games begin!” I shift anxiously on my pedestal, hoping none of the other tributes notice.

 

60 seconds, and then we’ll hop off our pedestals and battle to the death.

 

Great.

 

_“60...59...58...”_

 

The count down starts, and I prepare myself. I look around and familiarize myself with the other tributes.

 

_“57...56...55...54...53...52...51...50...”_

 

To my left I see some tributes unknown to me. I think it’s the boy from 9 and the girl from 7. Farther down I see Finch —the girl from 5 — and she has her eyes on someone: Jollif.

 

_“49...48...47...46...45...44...43...”_

 

Finch and Jollif seem to be communicating with their eyes. I keep my eyes on her while hers are still trained on Jollif. Finch tilts her head slightly to the forest surrounding The Cornucopia. It’s a subtle gesture, and I barely catch it. Jollif nods his head once in response, and I’m relieved.

 

The forest may not be entirely safe, but it’s safer than Cornucopia-Suicide.

 

_“42...41...40...39...38...37...36...35...34...”_

 

To my right I see Peeta, and I smile to myself on the inside. And further down —about 5 tributes or so — I see Katniss, The Girl on Fire. She has her eyes on the prize: The Cornucopia.

 

Given her training score I’m not entirely surprised she wants something from there, but with a score of 11 you’d think she’d at least be smart enough to _not_ go to The Cornucopia. This part of The Games is not called “The Cornucopia bloodbath” for nothing.

 

_“33...32...31...30...29...”_

 

Then again I thought I was smart.

 

The knives and spears look pretty tempting... I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on that tomahawk.

 

_“28...27...26...25...24...23...22...21...20...”_

 

All around me the tributes get more anxious as the numbers go down. In less than 30 seconds most of us will be fighting, and in less than an hour half of us will be dead, leaving only 12 or so of the most skilled, clever, and perhaps just lucky tributes.

 

The Gamemakers and The Capitol love a good show with bloodshed, and the Cornucopia battles provides that.

 

_“19...18...17...16...15...14...13...”_

 

I see Cato, he’s directly across from me, and I purposely lock eyes with him. He grins in anticipation at the numbers dwindling down. He’s eager for blood to be spilled. Of course he is, he’s a Career.

 

And so am I.

 

_“12...11...10...9...8...”_

 

If you couldn’t feel the tension from before, you certainly can now. Everyone is getting ready to dash, whether it’s towards The Cornucopia or to The Forest only time will tell. Maybe they don’t even know themselves.

 

I have to admit, The Forest seems pretty sweet from where I stand. But I have to be apart of the Cornucopia, it’s what being a Career is all about.

 

_“7...6...”_

 

I feel eyes on me, and I look around until I see Marvel, another Career, grinning at me. I feel uncomfortable, but I smile back and look around some more.

 

_“5...”_

 

I look at Clove, Cato’s district partner, and we catch each other’s eyes and she nods to the Cornucopia as if to say: _“Keep your head in the game, 4.”_

 

_“4...”_

 

Glimmer sneers at me when she sees me looking at her, she’s almost across from me as well, but she’s more to the left, while Cato is more to the right.

 

_“3...”_

 

Cato catches my eye again, and he’s grinning hard. He pauses his grinning to blow a kiss at me, and I hold back the urge to roll my eyes, and politely smile back.

 

_“2...”_

 

I get in a running stance despite the small space on the pedestal. I dart my eyes to Finch and Jollif, Finch’s face shows no emotion, but the look of worry on Jollif’s is frightening.

 

_“1...”_

 

Peeta is looking to the forest, and he’s face projects concentration and a bit of worry, but no where near as much as Jollif’s.

 

_“This is it.”_ I think. _“I’m ready.”_ Or at least I’ll tell myself that.

 

A siren goes off, and everyone steps off their pedestals, running to either to The Forest or The Cornucopia.

 

I step off mine, making a mad dash for The Cornucopia. I reach it and grab 3 or 4 of the knives I was looking at earlier. I turn around in time just to see Finch’s unmistakable red hair dissappear into the depths of the forest.

 

Even though in the end she’s the competition, I smile. At least Jollif is safe, because if she’s in the forest, he’s not far behind her.

 

I hear rapid footsteps coming up from behind me and I grab a spear from the rack beside me. I turn and spin, plunging into District 10’s female tribute. I look down as she drops the bowie knife she was holding.

 

Even though I’m pretty sure I pierced her lung, I’m the one out of breath. Not because I’m out of shape, but because killing leaves an exhilarating feeling running through my veins. But in its wake, it makes me feel a sickening emotion just as strong: Guilt.

 

_“I shouldn’t feel guilty.”_ I reason. “ _She was coming after me. She was going to kill me!”_ Yet it’s hard do imagine her doing any damage when the life is draining out of her eyes as she lets out a whimper.

 

I yank the spear out and her lifeless body falls to the ground. I grab the Bowie knife she had previously, and unclip the sheath from her pants and secure it onto my own pair. I sheath the Bowie for now, and scan my surroundings.

 

Dead tributes lay scattered. About 5 or so from on this side of The Cornucopia, including the one I just killed. I turn the corner just in time to see Thresh kill the boy from district 7. I quickly go in the opposite direction of him, because taking him one-on-one doesn’t seem like a very smart choice right now.

 

I need to find Cato, or someone from the Career Pack. Despite how much I loathe them, we’re still part of an alliance. I head to the other side of The Cornucopia.

 

Of course, given my luck, I hear more footsteps, this time, they’re coming from around The Cornucopia. I raise my spear, ready for them. The tribute finally makes their way around, and I begin to toss the spear, but I grab onto it, stumbling to stop its motion.

 

I land on the ground and look up at the tribute, it’s a friend, not a foe. To me anyways.

 

I grin. “Hey Peeta.”

 

FO•CG•FO•CG

 

**YESSS!** **I love me some Calta or PeeCal or whatever it’s called. I’m trying to stay as close to the movie and book lore as possible in some situations, but it will still be interesting.**

 

**GUESS WHAT! *throws confetti* Happy 1 month anniversary on our story!!! (Yes I mean OUR story! I couldn’t have done it without you guys!) As of now we have 1,005 views, 7 reviews, 7 favorites, and 12 followers!**

 

**And I know in the book and movie Peeta runs towards the woods, but he ends up with the Career Pack anyways so...*shrugs***

 

**This chapter was a bit short in terms of words and action, so expect another out soon! Check my profile for the exact date.**

 

**As always: review, favorite, and follow :)**

 

**Chapter 12 synopsis:**

 

**“The Games are underway, and it’s time for game plans. Is Peeta’s a good one, or will it cost him dearly? Tension begins to rise between tributes, but can it be settled without bloodshed?”**


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